


Railroads and Relaxation

by localjester



Category: Half-Life
Genre: American Sign Language, Cooking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, I followed canon up until the end of hl2 ep 1, I just think they all need a nap okay, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Selectively Mute Gordon Freeman, Self-Indulgent, White Forest, a lot of talking about post-apocalypse food, and im too impatient to watch ep 2 oops, only mentioned in passing but gordon is trans, talk about morphine withdrawal, they dont go in different trains because i thought that was dumb
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27850370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/localjester/pseuds/localjester
Summary: Gordon Freeman deserves a nap, and Barney is determined to get him some rest, by hell or highwater. The dusty floor of an old train will just have to do.
Relationships: Barney Calhoun/Gordon Freeman
Comments: 57
Kudos: 143





	1. Inertia and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> As many a bored high-schooler can probably tell you, Newton’s first law goes something like this:
> 
> An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion.
> 
> Gordon, of course, knows this, and for days he’s been in motion. Since finding himself in that train station, to being pointed and led from one place to another; Ravenholm to Nova Prospekt to the Citadel and… back to a train station. Not the same train station, he’s pretty sure, but it’s not like he knows how many train stations are even in City 17. Recently, he feels like he hardly knows anything.
> 
> He knows that an object in motion stays in motion, with the same speed and direction until it’s acted upon by an unbalanced force.
> 
> Since Black Mesa Gordon has been in motion. He squints at the Citadel’s tower, pulsing with energy in the distance as he stands on the back of a train bound for the Outlands, he’s hit with the realization: There’s nowhere to run, nothing to shoot, nothing to do for a brief moment. He’s stopped. Momentum lost.
> 
> Beside him, Alyx and Barney watch the Citadel’s tower too. Alyx opens her mouth, says something, but he has no clue what it is.
> 
> Bloody, bruised and exhausted, Gordon Freeman finally gets a moment of rest.

From his place on the caboose, Barney stands, sucking in a deep breath as he watches the Citadel. The tower is spitting out a great beam of light, deep reds and purples and green lightning arcing up the sides of the building right into the sky. It’s pure energy, or something like it. Above it, a storm is growing. It’s a big one, with giant near-black clouds swirling around the Citadel’s beam in a near perfect circle.

Absently, Barney wonders what Gordon and Alyx did to make the tower  _ react  _ like that. While they’ve both always had an unsung talent for kicking proverbial hornet’s nests and causing massive property damage in one fell swoop, this is on a whole new level. The Citadel’s tower was obviously the main base of operations for Combine in the region, providing power and watching over City 17 at the same time, but he never thought it was capable of doing whatever this is. It’s lit up like Alien Satan’s version of a Christmas tree - the building looks very angry, if a building ever could look angry.

Alyx and Gordon are watching too, hands holding on to the rusty railing, eyes fixed on the tower. The old passenger train might not be as speedy as the Razor trains, but it's still headed as fast as it can  _ away _ from that god awful tower. Barney's been told that the thing is more or less one giant explosion waiting to happen, that it has been for hours now. Seems like now might be the time.

The past few hours have been a blur, mostly spent in combat, but they’re here together now.

The three are sitting silent as the train speeds away from City 17, or, more accurately, what  _ remains _ of it. Through the fighting, probably more than half of the city has been leveled, especially as the combine threw whatever they had at the rebellion forces. The blocky buildings and piles of rubble that were very recently buildings are getting smaller by the second as the train speeds away. However, the Citadel is huge, still painfully easy to see looming in the distance. Barney swallows past a lump of emotion in his throat as he has the passing thought that this is probably the last time he’ll see this place. Mentally, he tells himself to stop being stupid, he  _ hated _ living there. Plus, just about all he cares about is on the train with him, within arms reach, and he knows the rest is safe and far away from the city too, Kliener and Eli in a Resistance base in the Outlands by now. From what he gathered, D0g is also on his way there. He lets out a deep breath, tries to relax and pull himself back into the moment. Maybe he’s just sentimental, never been one for change, even if the change is almost certainly better than the past.

Straightening from where he leans on the railing, he takes a good look at Gordon and Alyx. The two of them are both staring now, transfixed, at the wreckage and ugly mess of lights and energy the Citadel has become. As the train left the city they fell quiet, but the silence isn’t suffocating, not when it’s cut up by the rattle of the train on its rails. The sound is irregular and almost soothing, in a weird way.

That silence is broken when the Citadel starts to rumble.

At first, Barney thinks the tower itself is  _ speaking _ , as stupid as that sounds, warbling something garbled and alien like it’s alive, but that can’t be right - the thing gurgles and the earth itself shakes, and they can feel it, even as far away as they are. It was obvious the tower, as well as City 17 as a whole, had speakers all over it, but this isn’t the Overwatch lady’s light british monotone assigning Combine orders, or some kind of Breencast, couldn’t  _ possibly _ be from any kind of sound system. Atleast, not any kind he’s familiar with. It’s almost like walking in on two Vortigaunts talking before they notice you’re there, and switch back to “auditory language,” and it could be mistaken for an earthquake, if not for the  _ sound _ . It’s something old and primal, wavering just on the edge of human hearing. The effect is near immediately hair-raising, fear-inducing,  _ telling him to get up and run- _

“Oh my god, the transmission’s going out.” His momentary panic takes a backseat as he tries to piece together what Alyx means, and starts right back up again when she leans over railing to get a better look. Barney feels like he nearly has a heart attack. He tries to be subtle when he rests a hand near her shoulder, close enough to grab onto her hood if she were to lose her balance or something. He knows she won't, that he’s just being anxious, but in his experience it never hurts to be a bit overly cautious, especially when one Alyx Vance is involved.

He’s startled again when in the distance the Citadel flashes a bright white. Another explosion if Barney had to guess, aftermath of whatever the hell those two did in there before. Meanwhile on high, the storm seems to open up, swirling clouds shifting like they’re going to funnel around the building. He has the passing thought that it’s been a very long time since he last saw a tornado. Instead of that though, there’s more movement as it shifts and it looks like the sky itself is being ripped open, leaving a big hole in its wake. It’s a near perfect circle, the Citadel’s beam of light shooting straight into the center, dark red like thick blood and then-

It stills.

The tower stills, but it’s like the long breath you have to take in before letting out a scream. It’s not an ending, it’s a pause in preparation for  _ something _ .

He holds onto Alyx a little tighter as the train shakes viciously, feeling the aftershocks of whatever caused that awful rumbling. The carts shudder on the rails, but somehow the old train keeps going.

Gordon’s holding on to the railing so hard it looks like it might bend, while he himself looks anything but steady. 

Too soon, or maybe not soon enough, the Citadel starts to crumble under its own weight. Whatever light it was shooting up into the sky dies down, tapers off, while the clouds above start to disperse without whatever energy was there to pull them in. Then the tower's foundation starts to shift.

It lasts anywhere between 5 seconds and 5 minutes and it’s brutal in every sense of the word. The Citadel’s tower falls, metal screeching and a few more late sparks of lightning racing up the building’s frame. Distantly, Barney’s reminded of playing a game of drunken Jenga in some dorm in Black Mesa, what must have been a lifetime ago. It crumbles almost just like that, starting somewhere close to the base and snapping. It breaks into a bunch of little parts on the way down. Well. Little from  _ here,  _ on a train several minutes out and getting further as it happens, to someone in the city itself, the pieces must be gigantic. Anywhere from a refrigerator to a double-decker bus in size, maybe. Larger, probably. As it falls it shakes the earth under it, and it almost seems like the ground will give out from under their feet. Big plumes of dust and ash block some of the view.

Somehow, the train keeps going.

Barney’s glad they got their group of citizens out when they could, got them to board the train.. He doesn’t want to think of what will happen to everyone still stuck in that little slice of hell.

“Wow,” Alyx breathes, maybe out of a lack of anything else to say. He can’t help but agree with her. Unsurprisingly, Gordon doesn’t comment, but his hand has fallen from where he was clutching the railing in disbelief. Barney can’t be sure if Gordon’s shaking or if it’s just the train moving on the rails. He fights the urge to reach out and grab his hand.

“Y’think it still went out?” Barney hazards asking after a beat, scratching at his stubble with the hand not on Alyx’s shoulder. He knows the two had said something about it before, but Alyx didn’t go into much detail, they were too busy trying to not die. He can only assume that transmission must be vitally important somehow, because that’s how it usually goes when people choose to skimp on the details.

She whips around like she forgot the two of them were right beside her, blinking a few times before managing a “What?”

He tilts his head a bit to the side and raises an eyebrow. “That transmission you were talkin’ about earlier?” As Alyx had grown, he’d gotten real good at doing The Eyebrow Raise as it used to make her giggle when she was little. She hardly reacts to it anymore, but he still has the passing thought that he hopes she doesn’t realize he picked it up from Gordon in the first place. Or that Gordon won't poke fun at him if he realizes.

Thinking hard, she frowns, turning back to the rapidly shrinking city. “I… I don’t know.” She says it like not having an answer bothers her. Barney gives her a pat on the back, trying to be comforting, hoping to convey that,  _ Hey, it’s alright, you’ll probably figure it out, and if you don’t you’re still one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.  _ He almost certainly falls short, but doesn’t want to say it out loud and risk sounding patronizing. She sighs and lets her hands fall limp over the railing, but still keeps her eyes on what was previously the Citadel, lost in her thoughts.

They sit there in the relative quiet for a bit, and Barney tries not to look too hard at the bloody scratches Alyx sports here and there, the deep gouges in the metal of Gordon’s HEV suit. Alyx is usually pretty good about asking for medical when she needs it, the only problem is when she convinces herself that others need it more. He suspects Gordon might be a different problem entirely.

He should probably make sure everyone else is okay, too. Even though he's not a doctor, he's picked up on some basic first aid enough to be of some help. Actually, to be fair, being a doctor is irrelevant. Most of the doctors he knows don't know a damn thing about medical, which is probably why the good Doctor Freeman's HEV suit, remade by one Doctor Isaac Kliener,  _ still _ relies on copious amounts of morphine for any and all medical emergencies, hence why if Gordon’s injured, it might be a problem Barney has no idea how to go about helping. Hell, Gordon might not even be able to tell if he’s hurt  _ at all _ and while Barney knows the suit is a modern marvel of science, if not magic, he knows that it can’t stop everything. The gouges on the metal prove that, and he pushes down the thought that some of that blood on the HEV must  _ certainly  _ be Gordon's own. Still, there's no obvious damage that got through, but he must be bruised as shit and there's  _ so much blood _ ...

If he thinks about it too hard he'll probably give himself an aneurysm or something, so he moves on, doing a mental headcount of how many and who made it to the train. He doesn’t get too far before faces start to blur. It's been hectic the past few hours, to say the least.

Barney clears his throat, breaking the silence when it starts to settle in a bit too thick for his liking. “I’m gonna go check on the citizens.” He jabs a thumb towards the door leading to the rest of the train, even when neither of them are facing him.

"Yeah," Alyx says as she pushes herself upright, shaking her head like she has to, like if she doesn't her eyes will stick to the shape of what was once City 17, becoming a bit smaller with the passing seconds. "Yeah, I'll come too."

Barney holds the door and moves out the way so she can go through first, tries to take a good look at Gordon.

He hasn't said anything - not that it's out of character, but Barney has had a long-standing habit of wondering what's going on in that brain of his. His eyes are fixed on the wreckage, but they're glassy, like he's not seeing any of it. Fresh blood trails down from somewhere behind his ear - maybe in his hairline. Barney would be lying if he said he wasn't worried sick about him, but that's nothing new. He doesn't really acknowledge them as they leave, but Barney squeezes a hand to his shoulder for a brief second, tries to be comforting even if there's a pretty good chance he can't even feel it through the HEV suit.

"We'll be right back if you wanna stay here, Doc."

He looks back some, but with the way the light hits his glasses, Barney can't really see his eyes. Gordon does nod, though, so the two leave.

Inside the first train car - or maybe the last? Well, it’s the first one he’s seen, is what looks like more of an extra place for storage than anything else. Plywood crates are stacked here and there, a metal shelf is bolted to the wall, still holding a few abandoned suitcases. There's only metal bars where it looks like there were once seats, and only in one corner. Maybe this car wasn't meant for passengers? Any light that was once in here looks like it's either burnt out or been removed, casting the whole room into refreshingly cool darkness. He has no idea what could be in the various crates, figures he’ll have time to check later. It’s supposed to be quite the trip to get to the Outlands.

It's a few more cars before they actually see anyone - it seems like they entered in groups and stayed that way, huddled close together in the seats, mostly in the train cars closest to the front. Barney doesn't blame them for wanting to stay together.

The majority don't look too awfully worse for wear, mostly just bruised and shaken up, but maybe Barney's just too used to seeing the awful, horrible things people can live through.

A man, probably in his late fifties if he had to guess, caught some Hunter-Chopper fire in the thigh, but someone's already bandaged his leg, and it looks like he's sleeping peacefully. He  _ is _ just sleeping, it's very apparent from how hard he's snoring. A younger lady sits beside him, looking exhausted and vaguely bemused - maybe his daughter, or just a friend. Or kind-of like his niece, but also kinda like the younger sister he never had, Barney thinks to himself as Alyx stops, asks the lady if they need anything. She waves them away politely, telling them it could be a lot worse. She's right, he's seen the things Hunter-Choppers can do to someone and it's never pretty. Where the hell Gordon Freeman got a  _ rocket launcher _ from, he might never know, but he seemed well-versed in taking the things down. Maybe he took a course on it in MIT,  _ How To Blow Up Shit Real Good 101 _ , probably was top of the class.

In the next car, there's an oddly familiar couple, the woman's face in her own hands, distraught, while the man next to her does his best to console her. He  _ swears _ he keeps seeing these two everywhere but maybe he just took a hit to the head in the last couple days and hasn't really noticed yet.

They go through the train cars, offering any aid where they can. Some ask what the commotion was, most don't. They smile when he says it was the Citadel tower collapsing. A girl with blond hair, cut close to the sides, lifts an arm and gives a half-hearted  _ whoop _ that makes him laugh.

It seems the citizens (refugees?) have mostly taken care of each other, someone had extra medical supplies and the know-how to use them on those that needed it. Barney tries to remember their name and face, see if they'd like to be a field medic after this. What they didn't have, Alyx could more than cover for, never ceasing to amaze, as always. Sometimes it seems like she has a lot of hidden pockets on that jacket she’s always wearing, but she was never really patient enough to pick up sewing.

He gets a few questions along the lines of:  _ 'Was that really Freeman?'  _ and Alyx's answer is always a simple, proud "Yes." Though, when they ask Barney the same thing, he likes to crack a joke, ask them if they expected him to be taller.

Eventually, Alyx finds someone she seems to know and strikes up a conversation. Either that, or she’s interested in whatever piece of tech they’re currently fiddling with - whatever it is it looks decently complex and like it might’ve been originally from the Combine. Friend or not, her eyes light up, even after everything she’s surely been through today. Barney sighs wistfully in mourning of the days when he had  _ that _ much energy, though she might just still be on an adrenaline high. He excuses himself, telling her he'll go back and check on Gordon.

It's not a far walk, but he gets the irrational feeling that the doctor will be gone before he gets there, that  _ something _ will happen. It's probably just the lack of sleep making him paranoid, Barney tells himself. He does walk a bit faster though, just in case.

When he does get back, Gordon’s already inside the train car. He’s sitting on one of the larger crates stacked near the back, his elbows on knees and hands on the top of his head. It’s almost immediately apparent that he’s shaking something awful, no mistaking it for the train swaying this time. The HEV suit’s gloves are bright orange and stark against his short hair, and Barney’s almost  _ certain _ , even from this distance, that his fingers are clenched way too tightly in the strands.

As Barney crosses the distance between them as fast as he can, he feels his heart plummet.

“Hey, cut that out,” He starts, trying his damndest to sound gentle, “It’s not going to do anybody any good.” He makes to grab the doctor’s hands with his own but he hesitates, hands just left hovering when he realizes he has no idea if it’s okay to touch him.

Gordon’s hands do fall limp after a moment, then ball into fists like he’s trying to stop them from trembling. It’s a futile effort, and Barney can hear his next breath stutter as he pulls it in.

Barney kneels down as smoothly as he can in front of Gordon, putting himself between him and the door to the rest of the train. His bad knee still gives a protest, but he really couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Gord’ what can I do for you? Is it alright if I touch you?” He keeps his voice as calm and low as he can, trying to suppress any hint of a waver. He knows his friend is in a bad way, if he’s not already crying, he probably will be soon.

A breath, a sniffle. Gordon nods. Barney still can’t see much of his face, even kneeling in front of him - he has his chin nearly tucked into his own chest, the majority of what Barney can see is the top of his head.

Even with permission this time, he hesitates, hands stopping halfway in between the space between them. Gordon, however, doesn’t give him any more time to overthink. He startles Barney as he slides off the crate, the knee-guards on the suit making a hollow  _ phur-plunk  _ sound as they connect with the floor of the train. For one distressing second, Barney thinks he’s passed out or something, but Gordon goes easy, wrapping his hands around Barney’s waist and fitting his face into his shoulder so  _ effortlessly _ that Barney’s breath hitches in his throat. There’s a clatter from somewhere behind him, and Barney’s baffled for a moment until he realizes it was Gordon’s glasses, that he took them off before shoving his face into the crook of his neck. It was a good call, Barney knows, but he did it like the last time they did this was just weeks ago, not  _ two decades ago _ .

Fumbling behind him for a moment, he picks Gordon’s glasses back up, not wanting to lean back and break them with his boot or something. It’d be real hard to get him a new pair, he thinks as he leans forward, having to jostle the other man a little to set his glasses on the crate Gordon was just sitting on. Gordon jolts as they move, looking up at Barney with wide, teary eyes like he’s scared Barney will leave him, until he gets his arms around the shoulders of the HEV suit as best as he can, pulls him back into the hug. He settles back in as Barney starts to rub small circles into his back. He realizes way too late that Gordon probably can’t even feel it through the thick sheet of metal, drags a hand up to run through his hair instead. He’s careful to keep his fingers away from the bloody spot somewhere behind his ear he caught sight of earlier, watches closely for a negative reaction. He keeps his other arm around Gordon’s shoulders, trying not to let the train jostle him too much. The last thing you want to happen during your emotional breakdown is to get tossed to the floor of a moving train because it takes a corner just a bit too fast. Don’t ask him how he knows this.

Barney has the errant thought that excluding the shorter hair, Gordon looks nearly the same as he did that day in Black Mesa, bloody and tired and  _ scared _ . Twenty years later and he looks just a bit more gaunt, a little more bloody and the same amount of terrified. Where has he  _ been? _

He swallows the question down like he’s been doing for more than a week. Blinking the sting out of his eyes, he takes a long, steady breath, hoping Gordon will follow his lead.

Breathe in.

Hold it.

And out.

“Hey bud,” He starts, trying to sooth, feeling a bit dumb as soon as it leaves his lips. “Deep breaths for me alright?” He asks, and he can’t ever remember being so thankful that his voice didn’t tremble.

The doctor keeps crying into his shoulder. The only sound is his long, shaking breaths and sniffles he’s making as he drags air into his lungs, half-muffled into Barney’s bulletproof vest. Though, it’s mostly just him shuddering through it, shoulders quaking. Shifting back further, Barney takes more of his weight, and takes a moment to rip off his CP uniform’s gloves, tossing them somewhere across the cart.

Barney starts to drag blunt nails across Gordon’s scalp, resisting the urge to shush him like a spooked horse or something. For a moment, he almost feels like he’s back in Black Mesa, but far more tired than he can ever remember being back then. Briefly, he wonders if Gordon feels the same. The gloved hands at his back fumble for a moment, trying to get a hold on the fabric of Barney’s vest as Gordon cries harder. Gordon gives up quickly, but spreads his hands out flat instead, moving up and down his spine. Barney can’t even begin to guess what has shaken him up so bad, except for, y’know, just about everything, so he figures it’s best not to ask.

“‘S okay, Gordon. I gotcha.” He whispers, attempting to find something to say that’ll be  _ good enough. _ He figures if he keeps on talking he’ll come across it eventually, but feels useless all the same.

Barney doesn’t expect him to respond at all, but as much as he can with his head tucked into his shoulder, Gordon nods like he believes it. Bless him.

He holds him tighter. Gordon squeezes back.

They stay like that for a long while, long enough that his back starts to ache. Long enough that Barney can almost convince himself that Gordon’s  _ here _ and he’s  _ real _ , that this is actually happening.

Gordon sucks in a shaky inhale as he shifts, straightens up, brings a hand up to his face to wipe stray tears away. Barney catches his wrist before he can touch his face with the glove that must be covered in  _ God knows what _ . In fact, he's pretty sure God doesn't even  _ want _ to know. Radioactive waste, soot and gunpowder, alien viscera, zombie gore, you name it.

"Hold on, Gord', If you wanna use my shirt as a snot rag, I'm fine with it. Was planning to burn this uniform anyway.” Barney shrugs, completely sincere. “'Cept maybe the vest," He adds as an afterthought.

Gordon laughs, light and wet, cut halfway through by a ragged breath. He laughs like he thinks he's joking.

"I'm serious, Doc." He pulls him back in, really not wanting him to worry about how filthy his fancy HEV suit undoubtedly is. Really wanting him to know that he’ll sit here and hold him for as long as he needs. "Hell, maybe we could sell it for profit. 'This is the authentic CP uniform the One Free Man himself cried on, prime condition, never washed, all boogers intac-"

Gordon jabs him in just the right spot to take his breath away, like hearing him laugh, soft as it was, didn’t already do the same thing.

"Oof," He protests, mostly just for show, as Gordon’s arms wrap back around him, swaying them both so subtly side-to-side that Barney could mistake it for the movement of the train if that's not the same exact thing Freeman did, a lifetime ago, for Barney when he had his bad days. Pull him into a hug and sway on his feet, real slow, just like this. At first it made him feel like a baby, like he was being  _ coddled _ or something but… It was nice. 

After that first time, he noticed it in other places, too. A few times he'd see Gordon rock himself like that, frazzled after a long day at work and safe back in his own dorm while the two watched a shitty movie or in the breakroom when no one else was around to see him do it but Barney.

He stopped complaining about not needing to be babied after that. 

Truth be told, in the years past he tried doing it to himself sometimes, while standing at some abandoned place on CP duty, while waiting back at base for Alyx to  _ please God make it back safe _ , alone in his bed and half drunk when he couldn't sleep. He'd think to himself that Gordon always did it better, though he wasn't sure how. Chalked it up to his rhythm being off or something, but having him doing it now he's not so sure.

He thinks maybe he just missed him.

They stay like that for a while, holding each other and swaying. They only pull away long after Gordon's tears had dried, until he could take in deep breaths without his lungs stuttering. When Gordon does pull away, he gives a tired smile, and it looks just like Barney remembers. Part of Barney melts, he's sure of it, or maybe it breaks into a dozen little pieces like the Citadel did not an hour ago. He does his best to smile back.

Then Gordon leans back, brings his hands up to his chest, swipes downward almost like he's trying to brush something off the HEV chestplate but there's-

Oh.

It’s sign.

"Tired," He motions, eyes near pleading for Barney to understand, or atleast, that's what he  _ thinks  _ it is. 

"Tired?" He asks, deciding it's best to confirm.

Gordon nods, looking a bit relieved.

"Yeah," Barney chuckles, "I don't think anyone can fault you for that one." He himself is exhausted, he knows. It's been a hell of a week, to put it lightly. Gordon's got dark bags under his eyes, and what looks almost like a bruise forming on his jaw. Barney can only imagine what he's been through since they last saw each other - hell, he's beyond surprised that Gordon's alive, much less seemingly in one piece and sitting right in front of him.

"Is it the sleepy kinda tired or more existential-exhaustion kinda tired?"

"Bit of both." he responds with a small smile, hands not shaking nearly as bad as they were just ten minutes ago.

Barney hums, tries to think of the best course of action.

“Here Doc,” He scoots back, moving them both until Barney’s back is against the wooden crate, legs extended and arms open. "If you wanna lay down and try to sleep I can stay right here, I'll wake you up if anything happens, okay?" 

Gordon hesitates, presses his lips into a thin line as he glances past Barney to the door.

"We'll get you out of that tin can and into a bed as soon as we can, alright? I'll take over for a bit, Doc. Just rest." Barney tries to convince, summoning all the certainty he can manage.

Gordon looks at him through big, worried eyes, red and puffy from crying. He puts his hands up, hesitating, and Barney thinks he's about to sign something, but instead he takes Barney's face in his hands, brings him closer and presses a clumsy kiss to his forehead. His lips are chapped and it nearly makes Barney choke on his own spit.

Barney's done his best to help Gordon through quite a bit of his panic attacks, but he’s never gotten kissed for it.

He's blushing to his ears he's sure. If he remembers right (which he's pretty certain he does,) Freeman was never really one for initiating physical affection, especially near the beginning of their friendship. After someone else initiated first, a hug, a pat on the shoulder, or the rare hand hold, usually from Barney himself, he would soak it up like the socially awkward sponge he is. Er. Was? Before now, he hasn't seen Gordon touch or  _ be _ touched by anyone - excluding particularly cocky Combine troops and the rogue headcrab, if you can count headcrabs as 'anyone'. Though, he's hardly been with him this whole time, maybe he's gotten a bit more handsy? Twenty years can change a man. Still, it takes a bit more effort than it probably should to squash the longing he feels, the love, telling him to kiss him back and hold him and never let go.

Gordon watches him with those green eyes for a moment, before turning around and leaning his back into Barney’s chest. They both get as comfortable as they can on the dusty floor of the train car. Gordon’s a good few inches taller than Barney, but Barney has always been wider. They make it work, Gordon slouching down and tucking himself under Barney’s chin, long legs stretched out as far as the metal cabinet bolted to the wall in front of him will allow. He sighs, contented, as Barney brings his arms around him again. He shifts so one of the panels isn't jabbing into his thigh, but doesn't bother avoiding the splotches of whatever’s on the HEV suit, long since used to the smell and probably not much better off himself.

As Barney gets lost in his own thoughts again, trying to decide if the warmth between them was mutually assured or all himself, warming up the metal suit - maybe the suit has heating? Wouldn’t that be something - Gordon blinks up at him. Barney hums to tell him that he’s paying attention.

Gordon brings a flat hand up to his own chin, then back out. "Thank you."

"Least I can do, Gordon."

Instead of putting his hand back down, he reaches over, grabs Barney's instead, curling their fingers together and bringing them to rest on his chestplate. Gordon closes his eyes, squeezes his hand.

Barney's heart aches. He squeezes back.

He lets his other hand drift into Gordon’s hair, rubbing gentle circles with his fingers like he has been. Gordon's mouth quirks up at the edges and Barney's reminded of a cat on its back in a sunbeam. Probably an orange one, if he thinks hard enough about it.

It feels like it’s only seconds until the other man’s out like a light, head limp against Barney’s chest and lips slightly parted. Barney has half a mind to be jealous, it looked as easy as flipping a switch. Maybe he’s just that tired. Barney knows that even before the end of the world, Gordon had a habit of never getting anywhere near enough sleep. He wonders if that’s changed any, wherever he was for twenty years.

He remembers coming up with convoluted ways to get him to sleep more often, a favorite of which was finding the most boring and complicated movies or otherwise terrible movies he could. Even if Gordon didn’t end up passing out on the couch, they both could have a good time making fun of whatever atrocity Barney had found for sale last week on VHS. It’s the same reason he got into the practice of making hot tea. He still prefers coffee, but it’s come in handy a few times as coffee grounds got harder and harder to obtain over the years and you can use just about anything to make tea. Alyx was particularly adventurous, bringing any dried out plant she was reasonably sure wasn’t poisonous back to Barney. He didn’t want to touch half of it, but most of the time Alyx or Kliener drank all of it, if it was sweet enough. Thinking back, he isn’t sure if he’s seen chamomile in more than five years and finds himself wondering if Gordon would like to try marigold tea.

Sighing, Barney rests his chin on the top of Gordon’s head. He’s glad, of course, that he’s here, relatively safe and in his arms but can’t stop worrying that it won’t be for long. The train ride should take a few hours, sure, but who knows what can happen? Ever since Gordon showed up, everything has been in motion, unstoppable and chaotic with no sign of stopping. Always one thing after another, no break for rest in between. Barney has hardly seen Gordon sit down for days, though for quite a bit of it, he hasn’t seen him at all. He’s been busy being the big damn hero the Vortigaunts, and by extension, most of humanity, believes him to be.

Of course, better than most, Barney  _ knows _ Gordon is a hero - but that doesn’t make him indestructible, doesn’t make him immortal, right? Gordon twitches in his sleep, looking for all the world like he’s still twenty seven and suddenly, Barney isn’t so sure. 

No matter what Gordon is, he’s here, laying against Barney’s chest, HEV suit a welcome weight against him, like a big woven blanket. If blankets were made of metal, but whatever. He’s just glad to have his friend back, breathing deeply in his sleep and undeniably alive.

It's a long while before Alyx cracks the door open, but Barney isn't exactly sure how long. He holds a finger up to his lips, urging her to be quiet. Her eyes go round as she takes in the scene, eases the door shut behind her.

The rusty metal still closes with a loud  _ Ka-thunk _ , but Gordon hardly stirs. She looks between the two of them for a moment, eyes wide before saying anything. Barney tries very hard not to be embarrassed when she notices their intertwined hands, saying nothing and making that face she always makes when she figures out something, finds something new.

"Is he okay?" Is what she finally whispers, lowering herself to sit cross-legged on the floor by Barney's left side. Wincing almost immediantly after she says it she adds, "that's a dumb question but you know what I mean."

He gives her a small smile. "The big guy's exhausted. Not bleeding out though, or anything like that, as far as I can tell. How long have you guys been goin' without a break?" He’s been dying to ask, he knows how Alyx can get once she’s focused on something, not stopping until it’s finished or she loses interest. He has a sneaking suspicion that Gordon hasn’t had a proper meal today, too.

"Uh…" Her eyes widen, looking very guilty as soon as he asks it.

" _ Alyx _ ." Barney means to say it like an admonishment, but it’s much closer to fond exasperation.

"It's been a while." She admits her eyes falling to look at Gordon, still fast asleep. She doesn’t elaborate, just looks between them a few times before scooting closer, leaning her head against Barney’s shoulder like it’s second nature, leaning against his left side. She’s frowning like she doesn’t realize she’s doing it. He wonders if he’s supporting her, or the other way around.

As gentle as he can, he pulls his hand from Gordon’s and slings his left arm around Alyx’s shoulder. From what he’s seen, the two of them have been getting along like a house on fire. Or maybe, like a headcrab in a vent. He always thought they would, if Gordon ever came back, but to see it in action is something different entirely. The two make quite the pair, he can’t help but notice. Can’t help but feel like he’s out of his previous job as Freeman’s Best Friend, but to be fair, the last time he was really in that position was twenty years ago. He pushes away the bitterness - he loves them both, in very different ways.

"Where the hell have you two been?" Barney  _ tries _ to say it gently, but the lack of concrete answers for so long is starting to grate on his nerves. "Last I heard you two were in Nova Prospekt, then the whole facilities been leveled and you two were MIA, only to show up a week later like nothin' happened." Not to mention the reputation for Nova Prospekt itself as  _ the place you get sent to to never be seen again _ . 

He's had a lot of time to stew on what could've happened to them in the between the bouts trying not to get shot.

Alyx takes her time responding, fiddling with a stray thread on one of her gloves. Picking out her words carefully so as not to worry him too much. It's not working very well. "We teleported out before it blew but… The teleport took a lot longer than expected."

There's a beat of silence as he puts it together. His first thought is  _ what does the time have to do with anything _ ? Then it hits him.

"You were in a teleport for a  _ week?! _ " He didn't even know that was  _ possible _ , and starts to feel sick. He tries not to think about the cat they tested teleporting with first, about what else could've gone wrong.

She winces, like she was hoping he wouldn't put it together. "More or less, yeah."

"That's it, I'm doing my best to keep you two away from teleporters, _especially_ him, his track record is terrible. Ugh," He goes to pinch the bridge of his nose, realizes his hands are occupied. Instead, he just tries not to focus on the headache he's had just about this whole day. "What did you two do then?"

"We just went straight to the citadel to get Dad." Alyx says, like it’s obvious.

"Christ, when's the last time you two had anything to eat? Or  _ drink _ , even?" It is obvious, when Barney thinks about it for more than a second and he doesn’t blame her, but feels his headache get a little worse either way.

"I've had some breaks in between, but him? I... have no idea, I didn't even think about it." Her brow furrows, and he can tell she's doubting he had any time to at all, trying to match up timelines in her head. Leaning away a bit, she tucks her legs underneath her like she’s thinking of getting up. Barney slides his arm off her shoulder, lets her go.

"Should I go and get something for when he wakes up?"

"Would'ya please? His blood sugar's probably abysmal. I would, but as you can see, I'm real busy being his pillow."

Alyx snorts and gets up, heading over the door. She sends a look to Gordon as she shuts the door, a mix between concern and guilt. He hopes she doesn't beat herself up about it too much.

He’s seen the way she looks at Gordon, knows she thinks the world of him. It’d be hard not to, Barney guesses, with all her friends and family telling stories about a man she was too young to remember, and a fair bit of them convinced that he’ll come back, save them all, like some kind of fairy tale. Then he does come back, still looking like he did in Black Mesa, in all his dorky handsome genius… He can’t really blame her. He’s seen the way he looks at Alyx, too, glancing over his shoulder like he’s checking if she’s still there. He doesn’t have anything to compare it to, all those years ago Gordon didn’t seem too interested in romance, though, to be fair, most of his coworkers were men more than twice his age. If he really is still 27… 

Mentally, he shoos the thought away, it doesn’t matter. If there’s something there, good for them, if there’s not, it doesn’t change anything. Barney’s chance came and went by the time the world ended, if he ever had one to begin with.

When Alyx comes back, she dumps three little plastic packages onto the seat crate behind him, and stands up two water bottles to boot, any identifying labels long since worn off of the latter.

"Don't worry - It's all clean." She shoots him a wink and is back out the door before he can thank her, like she’s on some kind of mission. Barney muses that maybe she could just sense his moping and wanted to get out before she got caught up in it.

He turns one of the packages over in his free hand, and recognizes it almost immediately. It's a granola bar, or something close to it, part of one of the standard Combine ration packs, and a favorite at that, even though it's consistency is close to that of dry wood chips. Still, it's just about the closest thing you can get to 'sweet' in Combine rations.

Barney remembers always handing his off to Alyx when she was younger, and using them as bargaining chips for her when she got older and stopped readily accepting them. Little things, like, "If you find me a good pair of socks I'll trade ya," or "If you'll stop staying out past curfew so much I'll let you have a month's worth." He gave them to other kids in the city too, but as the years went by fewer and fewer kids were to be found. They were still useful for trading things though, most everyone has a price.

He distinctly remembers offering Kliener the rest of his bars for eternity if he got rid of Lamarr. Barney likes to think he considered it, but knows he at least got a laugh out of him for it, and that was probably it.

He wonders if he'll owe Alyx for this, as he finds himself staring at the closed door.

He can worry about that later. There's a  _ lot _ for him to worry about later. Pushing the thought aside, he takes Gordon's hand again, the gloves metallic and a bit awkward but somehow so very nice to hold. For now, he knows they're both safe. After days, after  _ years _ of worrying he feels a little more whole. Maybe he's just sentimental, but he thinks he might be crying if he wasn't so tired. Whatever happens it'll be okay, it'll be  _ fine _ , and even if Barney doesn't believe it, he'll try his damndest to get the people he loves to believe it. With Gordon back, he finds it a little easier to hope.

"I missed you so much." He mumbles, half into Gordon's hair, like he's scared that the air could hear him. Barney promises himself when they're a little safer, when they have time to rest, he'll say it to him when he's awake. 

Probably after they both have a shower, though. And not before Gordon has something to eat.


	2. Bread is Best With Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon wakes up in White Forest, confused and feeling more out of place than ever before. With a little bit of help, he thinks he can find a place, even if he has to make one for himself.
> 
> honestly this could be a lot better but if i have to reread it again i Might just snap, so enjoy!

Everything that happened after waking up on the last train (and to be honest, most everything before that too,) is one big blur for Gordon. A haze of constant movement.

He senses this is starting to become a trend.

At least this time, he vaguely remembers waking up; laying halfway in Barney’s lap _and_ being given food, which seems to be too good to be anything but a dream after the week Gordon’s had. They got to the Resistance base, he’s almost sure of it, he remembers being surprised even while half-conscious at the sheer size of the place - all big rectangles and mostly grey concrete. That one building wasn’t alone if he can recall, was in a series of buildings, laid out like a college campus or military base or something. _Was_ it a military base? If not now, was it built to be one? Someone mentioned the name of it, more than once he’s pretty sure, but it wasn’t anything he retained. He does remember an uncomfortable amount of standing, too many people walking around, he thinks he talked to Kliener, got a shower. Maybe not in that order.

Wait, no, he _knows_ he got a shower because he was sure his legs would give out from under him throughout half of it. Even now, he’s surprised he didn’t just collapse right there. It was a pain to get out of the HEV suit before that too, he knows, can remember feeling helpless and exhausted. Did Barney and Alyx help him out of it? Or was it Kliener? His head feels like it’s been turned into soup, and not even a good kind of soup - a gross soup like… Gordon can’t think of any gross soups. All soup sounds pretty good right now, actually.

It’s a bit of a struggle to get his eyes open and when he finally does he can’t even see very much. The room he’s in is large, larger than any room meant for just one person has any right to be, and is lit only by the orange and greenish glow of the HEV suit’s lights, the ones that let you know it’s charging. The suit’s in the far corner, still covered in blood, amongst other things. He’s in a bed right now, it’s nearly level with the floor - just a mattress on the cement. It’s blissfully warm and the comfiest thing he’s ever slept in, even though he’s somehow twisted himself up in the blankets enough to virtually trap himself in them. Truthfully, he might be biased about the ‘comfiest thing ever’ title, it’s been a _long_ time since he’s slept in anything you could even call a bed. As he wakes up more, he suddenly becomes very aware of the taste of his own mouth. 

Trying to untangle himself to look around the room more, he finds that he’s sore in places he didn’t even know could _be sore_. A headache is building up behind his eyes too, with a powerful vengeance. He assumes it’s a migraine of some sort, is suddenly very thankful it’s so dark in the room. Ugh. He feels like a piece of chewed gum, probably under a desk or on a seat in public transport or something - well used and disrespected. The simile would work better if gum could feel existential pain though, he thinks to himself.

Even sitting up becomes a bit of an ordeal, especially as the blankets fall off his shoulders and he’s suddenly aware of just how _fucking cold_ it is. Still, figuring out where he is should be a top priority, even if the bed is warm and practically singing to him like some sort of siren of sleepiness. His mouth feels like he spent the past few hours just licking rocks in the desert around Black Mesa, though, so he pulls himself from the mess of blankets, trying to figure out where the hell he is, where he can find a drink and where his glasses are. He’d also like to know where his crowbar ended up, but until he finds it he knows he can always experiment using other various scraps of metal. After a fair bit of patting around the edge of the mattress, Gordon does find his glasses, miraculously uncracked and colder than they have any right to be from resting on the floor. He finds that the room looks like anything _but_ a bedroom, it’s a concrete rectangle maybe just a bit smaller than Kliener’s lab in City 17, doors on two of the four walls and not a single window to be seen. There’s a table near the center of the room with scattered chairs around it, some are the office chairs with the little wheels, but most of them are metal folding chairs. Vaguely, he thinks he might smell some sort of industrial cleaner, or maybe a Sharpie left uncapped, but he mostly just smells _cold._

Which he isn’t sure is a smell and also isn’t very helpful. He already knew it was cold, only made worse by how he’s covered in a thin layer of sweat, rapidly cooling.

He’s pretty sure that’s a desk he can see in the corner, though at first he mistakes whatever’s sitting on top of it for someone or _something_ in the room with him. It’s oddly shaped, the lights from the HEV suit bouncing off it strangely - is it made of metal? Maybe it’s a big kettle? Coffee pot? It’s hard to tell in the dark, but he’s almost certain there’s no one else in the room with him, that it was just the reflection of the light that made him think it was moving. There’s a big whiteboard too, he can clearly see, one of the ones on wheels that they had plenty of back in the lab, just a couple days ago. _No,_ he remembers with a feeling that leaves him colder that the air around him, it wasn’t just a couple days ago. From what he’s gathered it’s been much longer than that since Black Mesa - just not for _him_ , apparently. 

At that thought, he’s pretty tempted to just cover himself up with the blankets again and try to sleep forever, or at least until someone comes to wake him up. Between his dry mouth and his piercing headache though, he knows he can’t. It still doesn’t make him eager to get up.

He nearly swears as his bare feet hit the cold cement, but it just comes out as a disgusted noise instead, much too early for actual coherency.

Wait. Gordon realizes with a start that he has no idea what time it is, without any windows and no clock on the wall to help him out. 

Yep. Way too early.

As he untangles one of the blankets from the pile and wraps it around his shoulders, he’s come to the conclusion that this is probably some kind of office or meeting room. Or maybe it _was_ before he started sleeping in it? Srill, it doesn;t seem like it’s seen much use over the years. They probably put him in here because there was a charging port on the wall for the HEV suit he reasons. Still having the suit is a very good sign and he starts feeling a little better about not really knowing where he is. He rubs his hands on his forearms, trying to make himself a little warmer, tries not to think too hard about how he has no idea where the t-shirt he’s wearing came from.

_Okay, game plan Freeman. Step one:_ _Find water you know is potable._

Shouldn’t be too hard, though he knows he was told not to drink the water in City 17. He’s not sure _why_ , exactly, but he probably doesn’t want to find out. If he was in a Combine base right now, he’s pretty sure they wouldn’t have let him keep the suit, much less give him a port to charge it. The suit _is_ charging right now, a glance back at the lights confirm. If this place has power it probably has running water. He hopes.

_Step two: Figure out where the hell you are._

Less straightforward, but still manageable. He knows he’s probably in the Resistance base, but he hasn’t gotten this far by just _assuming_ things left and right. Well, actually he has. Making and testing abstractions is a pretty big part of his job. _Was_ a big part of his job. Whatever.

_Step three: Use the bathroom._

Actually, swap step three and step two, that’s _way_ more important right now, he realizes. Gordon shuffles to the door closest to his little makeshift bed first, opening it to find what looks like some kind of storage room. Crates and boxes and various random items are all piled high onto wooden and metal shelves, some of the stacks easily reaching the roof. There’s a light switch next to the door but he decides not to bother. With the way his head is throbbing, he really doesn’t want to blind himself with the light this soon after waking up. Oddly enough, on the right side of the room is a large counter top, complete with a deep-set sink. It’s like something you might see in a high school science lab, with no apparent sign of a toilet. Surely this place wasn’t a school, right? Something about the lack of windows and metal doors makes him doubtful. 

Making sure the blanket around his shoulders is secure, he chooses to start in order, as he thinks one always should: Find water. He reaches for one of the knobs on the sink, really has to pull on the frigid metal to turn it loose. For a moment, the pipes just rumble in a way that reminds him too much of a headcrab in an air vent, but just before he decides to turn it back off, the faucet starts to run, coming out in a few high-pressure bursts before settling into a steady stream. Gordon wonders if that means anything, but he knows nothing about plumbing. 

When he puts his hand into the stream of water, he almost immediately yanks it right back out - it’s _freezing_ , or at the very least just a few scant degrees away from it. With a long suffering sigh, he cups both his hands back under the water, bringing them up to his face to try to smell if there’s anything off about the water. He feels kind of like an idiot doing it, sure, but since he can’t actually tell what color the water is in the dark, Gordon figures he should try to use all the senses he can before actually drinking anything. It does just kind of smell like water though, or maybe it smells like his hand. On the plus side, there’s no one around to see him do it. After a few more seconds of frowning at the sink, he decides _fuck it_ and sticks his head under the faucet. It tastes like water, he decides, so he isn’t too worried. If he does find out later that the water is bad, he’s sure just having a little bit won’t kill him. Probably. He turns the water off.

Moving on to step two; he figures if he gets desperate enough he _could_ piss in the sink, but he really hopes it doesn’t come to that - It may be the apocalypse but Gordon has _standards_ . Now that he’s thinking about it though, the time he pissed in a sink was in college, way before the world ended and it’s not like he even has being high as an excuse this time so he should just find an actual toilet. It’d be a shame to have to label this as the Pee Sink for the rest of eternity. He walks to the other door he saw earlier, feeling optimistic about this place having functioning toilets if it has a sink, but stops to rest his head on the doorframe when the room starts to spin a little. His head feels like it just might split open, and when did it get so _hot?_ Oh shit, wasn’t one of the Greek gods born like that? Athena, right? He really hopes that doesn’t happen to him, with the week he’s been having, instead of a goddess of wisdom, what will come out of his forehead would probably just be Death incarnate. Gordon’s pretty sure he doesn’t need any help in that department, judging by the amount of dried blood he could see on the HEV suit he thinks he’s doing just fine, thank you. He barely registers knocking his crowbar over with his foot as he opens the door, apparently it was just left propped up on the wall. As an afterthought as he creeps out the door, he tosses the blanket back towards the bed, but it doesn’t even get close. His feet start to numb as he pulls the door halfway shut after him. The hallways are lit, though not very well, and there’s no sign of anyone anywhere. He can’t hear anything but the whine of the old tube lights above him and the sound of his own blood between his ears. Through the haze in his mind, he’s pretty sure he does remember using a bathroom at one point but he has no idea where it even is, it might not even be in the same _building_ for all he knows. God, what if they have gendered restrooms? That’s something he _really_ doesn’t want to deal with right now, even though that’s something he hasn’t been given shit for in a long time. A _Very_ long time, he reminds himself, if he’s really some untold amount of time in the future. At least a decade, maybe two or more. Fuck. As he stands motionless in the hallway like some kind of navigationally-challenged ghost, there’s still no sign of anyone else nearby. The few doors he can see don’t have lights underneath them, and besides the one he came from, they're all closed. Straining to hear anyone talking or walking around does nothing but make his head hurt worse. Maybe everyone is asleep? _Or dead_ , his mind supplies unhelpfully. He briefly considers turning on his heel and going back into the room he woke up in and just defiling the sink, and probably put on the HEV suit so he’s at least a little safer, but the thought of getting back into that thing kind of makes him want to cry. Peeing in the sink kind of does too, so he forges onward.

Wandering around for a minute or so, it becomes clear that there _are_ some labels on the wall, with little arrows pointing here and there. It takes him much longer than it probably should for him to realize that it’s all in Cyrillic and so, it’s completely unhelpful to him. He picks directions mostly at random for the time being, and even though he gets the feeling he’s been going around in circles, he eventually does find a singular bathroom. He’s pretty sure he’s never been so happy to see a toilet. After doing his business he keeps wandering until he can’t really feel his feet anymore, chilled as they are from the floor. He finds himself hoping that these floors have been cleaned recently, or even sweeped in the last year. Hell, he’d be enthused if no one has dropped shattered glass or rusty nails in here or something. Gordon can’t remember who gave him his change of clothes, but between the short sleeves and the lack of socks he might have to have a word with them. Maybe just a glare though, he’s not sure he has the capacity for words right now, best to use them wisely. After following the arrows he can’t decipher for a while, he does hear people talking up ahead. The hallway opens up suddenly into a much larger room, with high ceilings and rows of tables spread out here and there, similar to the ones you’d see in a cafeteria, maybe. Groups of people sit at different tables, but he spots two that look refreshingly familiar, one sitting and one standing at their own table.

He makes his way over, blinking in the too-bright-lights above. They don’t seem to notice him until he’s almost halfway across the room. Gordon wonders if it’s because they’re used to seeing him in orange. Barney notices him first and his face lights up, smile genuine and just a bit crooked.

“Well, look who it is!” He drawls from where he sits, “Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Alyx is standing close by him looking incredibly smug for some reason and Gordon’s overcome with fondness, even if he’s a little embarrassed when a few others in the room turn to look at them. As he takes the seat closest to them, he tries to suppress a yawn and fails miserably. Barney smiles wider. Gordon just rolls his eyes. He thinks some rest was well deserved, Barney can tease him all he likes.

“Really, I think I should be saying ‘good late afternoon.’ You’ve been asleep for nearly fifteen hours, buddy.” Barney continues as he scoots to give Alyx some room on the bench, after she pokes him in the shoulder a few times. They both sit across from him at the table, noticeably dressed down in comfortable looking, worn clothes. Barney's wearing something in between a sweater and a long sleeved t-shirt, the solid black of the fabric making the greying parts of his hair stand out. Even Alyx is without her ever-present leather jacket, just in the familiar Black Mesa hoodie and a pair of dark-wash jeans.

“Evening?” She suggests, after wrinkling her nose at ' _good late afternoon_ '. Gordon is instantly reminded of her mother, Azian. He can’t remember hearing a single word about her since Black Mesa and knows he should probably assume the worst.

“Same difference,” Barney waves her off and Gordon’s chest starts to hurt. Last time he saw Alyx, she was barely even up to his knees, and here she is, only a scarce few inches shorter than he is, especially without the suit to help him. She’s physical, undeniable proof that he’s been away for a _long time_ . He tries not to make his staring too obvious as he thinks about everything he must’ve missed. How old was she then? If he thinks hard enough, he can remember scrawling a note for _‘Alyx 5th Birthday’_ on his calendar just a few weeks ago. She’s almost certainly in her twenties now, probably not too far from his own age. He feels a little queasy. _How much did he miss?_

Before he finds himself too deep into that rabbit hole, before he wonders when Barney started going grey, Gordon redirects his attention to the papers he’s shuffling in front of him. It’d be awful official looking if it wasn’t for all the annotations and doodles between the lines of text and in the margins, mostly in various shades of colored pen, but some are in pencil. He can’t read it upside down and from across the table, but he’s pretty sure the parts in pencil are in Barney’s handwriting, the words just as neat and loopy as he remembers them being. Sometimes he’d get Barney to write notes for him when he needed something to look official, which wasn’t very often, Gordon’s own handwriting being infamously hard to read. He wonders if he can still read Kliener’s handwriting. If Kliener could still read _his_ messy scrawl after all the time that must have passed. The thought of his old mentor forgetting how to decipher Gordon’s chicken scratch makes him much sadder than it probably should.

When he forces himself to look up, they’re both looking back, a little concerned. Did they say something? He didn’t think he heard anything.

“How are you feeling, Gordon?” Alyx asks as he blinks at them. Gordon just shrugs at first, before he realizes she probably isn’t used to people… Not talking. He doesn’t want to seem rude. Does she even know any sign? She didn’t seem too surprised by his silence when they were running around shooting things together, so maybe someone told her? Regardless, he clears his throat and gives it his best shot.

“I’ve been better.” Is what he manages, but it feels like too little for the effort it took to actually say it. Oh well. It’s definitely not a lie, and he didn’t really want to say ‘Like attempted roadkill’ which might be more accurate. God, his mouth still tastes awful. Alyx just nods but Barney looks at him skeptically, the same face he used to make when Gordon would say _‘Yes, I slept fine’_ after pulling a near all-nighter again on his latest work project. He decides to stare at Barney back.

He hums in response, doesn’t take his eyes off Gordon for more than a few seconds as he holds up the papers, even though he turns his face towards Alyx beside him. “Al, do you wanna run these to your father and Kliener now or wait until dinner?”

She looks between the two of them for a long, silent moment, incredibly suspicious. 

She takes the papers.

Gordon isn’t really sure what’s happening, if this is some sort of game he doesn’t know the rules or the win condition. He still feels like he’s been completely outplayed.

Alyx takes her time standing up, flipping through the stack of papers with the edge of her thumb idly. “Where are you going?” She asks Barney. Gordon tries to communicate _what the fuck is happening?_ with a look, to no avail, Alyx doesn't pay attention to him. He can’t tell if he’s gotten worse at social interaction somehow or if Barney is just operating on an entirely different level now. It might be both.

“Kitchen, probably,” Barney says after a moment, sending Alyx a smile. “Thank you.”

She gives a mocking salute as she whirls around to walk down the hallway. He watches her go before turning back to Gordon, looking at him intently. Gordon falls back on his well tread habit of staring at the different splotches of color in Barney’s eyes and pretending he knows what’s happening. It’s worked okay so far.

“Hm.” He starts, tapping his fingers on the table, “Are you still sure you don’t want to get yourself checked up? After everything you’ve been through? I promise that the Vort’s make good doctors, even though they’re a little cryptic sometimes.” Gordon has no memory of being offered any kind of check up, but the face he makes is apparently all the answer Barney needs. “Yeah, that’s about what I expected." He sighs, starting to get up. Gordon notices he has the sleeves of a jacket tied around his waist. "Let’s go to the kitchen, get you something to eat. I’m sure you're starving.”

Now _that_ sounds much more appealing. To be honest, he doesn’t feel all that hungry but knows that he should definitely eat as soon as he can, so he nods vehemently. Not a lot of time for snack breaks when you're shooting aliens. And people. Yeah, a lot of what he was shooting at was people. He follows closely behind Barney into an adjacent hallway and through two double doors. The room is much smaller than the previous one, but it’s still pretty big. It’s very obviously a kitchen, with metal counters and shelves taking up a lot of the space, the rows sometimes broken up by… Well, he’s pretty sure they’re stoves and ovens of _some sort_ , but a lot of them aren’t something he’s even seen before. Maybe they’re an industrial version of more common kitchen appliances? It would make sense, Gordon supposes, if they had to feed a lot of people every day. A few of them are even obviously jerry-rigged in one way or another, chopped, screwed and welded back together to fit new requirements. He wonders if humans actually _eat_ what comes out of the one that’s glowing in the corner. Whoever built that had to know what they’re doing, right? He sure hopes so. Maybe he’d be up for trying it. Despite the room's large size, there’s no one else here right now. Gawking at the room, Gordon doesn’t really realize what’s happening until Barney is pressing a mug of water into his hands. He’s grateful and then suddenly a little amused when he tilts the mug to see it still has enough of the Black Mesa logo on it to be recognizable. Figures it would survive all this time. He takes a careful sip as Barney leans on the counter beside him.

Barney crosses his arms as he watches him drink. Gordon tries to grip the cup hard enough to hide his shaking hands. He doesn’t even know _why_ they’re shaking, he knows he’s not in any danger, Barney is relaxed and unarmed and Gordon trusts his judgement and he knows for certain Barney would never hurt him. He’s not upset, he thinks, he just kind of feels tired. Even after sleeping for fifteen hours. Any adrenaline or morphine left in his system should be long gone by now, right?

“Freeman,” Barney starts and Gordon finds himself unable to look him in the eyes, immediately feeling like he’s in trouble somehow. He finds himself staring at the shape of his arms under Barney's comfortable looking long sleeved shirt instead. Nope. Glaring at the wall is much safer, he decides. “You’d tell me if something’s wrong, right? You can talk to me.” 

Oh. The back of his throat feels tight all of a sudden. Gordon traces the lines of bare electrical cables up the wall as he tries to put together a response but he can still feel Barney’s eyes on him. After long moments of no response, Barney crosses over to stand in front of Gordon, puts the back of his hand to his forehead, like he’s checking for a fever. He frowns as he flips his hand, presses a broad palm to his sweaty forehead. Gordon nearly drops the mug in his hands.

“What isn’t?” Is what he finally manages to croak out, voice little more than a whisper.

Barney’s brow furrows as he puts his hand down and Gordon misses the contact as soon as it’s gone. “I'm afraid I don't follow, Doc.”

“I mean… I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know where I _am_ .” Running a shaking hand through his hair, he sucks in a breath. Admitting it seems wrong, makes his skin crawl, like he was already supposed to know the answers to everything. “Everything is _wrong_.”

Gordon tries to force down the panic that rises at the thought, has the passing thought that it was much easier to forget about when he was high. Or when something was trying to kill him.

Some of the water splashes over the rim of the mug, and it’s surprisingly cold where it hits his hand. “How long has it been? Since Black Mesa?”

Barney’s face falls, eyes wide with concern. “ _Shit_ , Gordon,” He takes the cup from his hands and puts it on the counter next to them. Gordon grabs his warm hands instead, trying not to squeeze too hard. “I didn’t think - I… It’s been a little bit more than twenty years. You came back on the anniversary.” Barney swallows hard, “How long has it been for you?” And he says it so gently, like the words could cut.

Gordon had suspected he was gone for about that long, but thinking it and hearing it confirmed aloud are two different things. He thinks he’d probably be crying, if he had the energy too. He just shakes his head, “I woke up on the train. T-the first one. I don’t know how I got there. Before that I was in Xen, I was just in Black Mesa. That was _last week_. The test was less than two weeks ago, I think. I don’t know... I couldn’t see the sky for a long time down there.”

Barney looks a little like he himself might start crying, deep seated worry plain on his face as he shakes his hands loose from Gordon’s grasp and threads his fingers through his proper this time. A glance down at where their hands are now joined can't be helped and Gordon feels just a little better. “The thought crossed my mind but I didn’t think… You look like you haven’t aged a _day_ , Gordon.”

“Thanks.” He says with the ghost of a smile, even though he knows it wasn’t really a compliment. It doesn’t really count as _ageing well_ if you’ve cheated the system entirely. “I’m - Sorry I wasn’t here. It wasn’t... I didn’t have much of a choice.” Gordon really is sorry, he feels _guilty_ even, something telling him that it was all his fault somehow even though he knows it couldn’t possibly be the work of one man, much less _him._

“Y’know what I meant, wiseass.” Barney snorts, smile soft as he rubs a calloused thumb over Gordon’s knuckles, leaving a pleasant tingle behind. “S’okay, no need to apologize. Maybe it’s for the best. You got to miss out on a lot of bad shit.”

Gordon shakes his head hard, nearly dislodging his glasses in the process. “If I had the choice I would’ve been there. I didn’t - I don’t want to leave you guys.”

“It’s okay, Gordy. You’re here now.” Is Barney’s reply, near immediate as he leans forward on tiptoes to put his arms around Gordon’s shoulders and into a hug.

It wasn’t though, Gordon thinks, it _wasn’t_ okay, might _never_ be okay, he wants to protest. He just wraps his arms around Barney instead.

They stand there for quite a while, Gordon practically melting when Barney starts to rub a hand up and down his back. _Twenty years._ It starts to sink in whether he wants it to or not. He can’t even begin to think on how he’s going to make up for all of those missed birthdays. Breathing out a little sigh, he tries to focus on enjoying the moment instead. When he wasn’t paying attention the cold had crept up on him again, goosebumps rising on his forearms. He knows he can’t blame his trembling on the cold though - he’s _terrified_ , just like he has been since all those days, weeks, _years_ ago. Maybe he’s always been a little bit terrified.

Maybe that’s why he just kept on going. Gordon Freeman and Anxiety were well acquainted well before aliens started slaughtering his coworkers and taking over his planet. Before then, though he never had the easy out of just killing whatever was causing the problem, preferably as fast as possible. He was never too patient.

Gordon wonders if what he’s done makes him a monster.

Instead of opening up that particular can of worms, he just closes his eyes, enjoys the warmth seeping into his skin from the hug. He regrets not hugging people more often, when he had the chance. God, he’s going to hug Kliener until he hears his back pop the next time he sees him, Eli too, if he wants a hug, though they were never very close. He’s glad he still gets to be held by Barney though, that he’s just as physically affectionate as he was before all of this. He’d always thought to himself that Barney was the first person to show him the value of a good hug - not that his parents never hugged him or anything, but as he grew older they stopped doing that sort of thing, he got the feeling they were never too sure what to do with him. Especially after he came out -

Nevermind. He shuts the mental door before he has a chance to open it all the way. That’s not something he wants to think about right now.

When his stomach grumbles audibly, Barney laughs and starts to pull away. It takes him a fair bit of wiggling to get out of Gordon’s hold, not to mention pinching the inside of his arm until he let go. He rolls his eyes fondly at Gordon’s pout.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’ll still be here later, let’s get you something to eat.”

Gordon picks his mug back up and hovers a ways away as Barney searches the shelves, wondering if he meant what he said about later. Did he mean he'd be _here later_ as in staying in the complex or _here later_ as in being open to letting Gordon cling to him like an oversized koala after he eats something? If he is, he should know that Gordon is more than willing to take him up on the offer. He's long past being shy about it or worrying what other people will think. It takes Barney a good bit of opening and closing cabinets until he apparently finds what he’s looking for - clearly not used to the layout of this kitchen.

“Opinions on jam, Doc?”

Gordon tilts his head in silent questioning, but whirls around as one of the doors swing open. Alyx winces as she catches it, looking like she didn’t expect the door to be so light and used way too much force opening it, as she hovers in the archway. He almost forgets he was asked a question until Barney starts talking again.

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure this is raspberry. Or at least part of it is.” Barney continues after looking up at the intruder briefly, as he’s pulling a glass jar from one of the shelves. A sizable part of the bottom is covered in duct tape.

“Oooooh, fancy!” Alyx chirps, taking the lack of response as an okay to join them. Gordon doesn’t really mind - he remembers her being pretty good company over the chaos of the last few days, even if he can’t remember the specifics all too well. She hops onto the adjacent countertop with practised ease, idly swinging her long legs as she watches the two of them.

“Opinion is favorable.” He decides.

Barney chuckles as he puts the jar down on the metal table along with everything else. The half loaf of bread is clearly homemade, uneven and a dark brown in color, but Gordon guesses he really shouldn’t have expected anything else. He does wonder where they got the jam though, where would they get raspberries from? As Barney struggles a little bit with opening the jar (he ends up putting the lid under the hem of his shirt to get a better grip) he asks Alyx to _pass a knife, would you please,_ or something like that. Gordon’s too distracted to really hear him as Alyx leans back to grab a knife from the block on her side of the counter and _tosses_ it several feet to Barney. He seems completely unfazed as he catches it by the handle and thanks her. 

Gordon thinks that if he isn’t already, he might just start greying prematurely, as he’s torn between feeling afraid and flustered.

They don’t bother getting a plate for all of them or slicing the bread. The three of them just break off chunks and pass the jam around between them as they eat. The jam is sweet and sour at the same time, and it’s good, even though he’s almost certain raspberry is not the only thing in there. The bread isn’t anything like the pre-sliced grocery store kind, it’s thick and sweet between his teeth and as he takes his fill, Alyx and Barney carry on the conversation between them. It feels a little like coming home, he thinks.

He pretends not to notice the questioning looks Alyx shoots Barney and genuinely has no clue what she mouthed to him as she took the empty plate from him. Barney just waves her off. 

Gordon can’t help but be a little awed at how well they seem to work together without having to say much of anything at all. It would make sense, he guesses, that Kliener, Eli, Alyx and Barney would have stuck together after Black Mesa, that she would’ve more or less grown up around him. He’s pretty sure that Barney mentioned having siblings once, just in passing over a couple of beers. He wonders if Barney was the youngest then, and if so, if he considers himself the same now.

It’s not long before the dishes are put away (or at least washed, Gordon wasn’t paying attention,) and they both turn around, Barney tossing an old tattered towel to Alyx even as she’s flicking the water on her hands off into the air.

“Before you woke up me n’ Alyx were planning to cook dinner for us all.” Barney’s eyes crinkle as he smiles and Gordon wonders when that started happening. “There’s a little garden not too far from here, if you’re up for the walk, we were planning to go and check it out.” Gordon has no idea who ‘us all’ could mean. Do they cook for the entire base at once? He figures he can’t feel his toes anymore anyway, and he’d like to see more of the base, agrees to tag along. As he walks behind he wonders what the resistance members would even grow, how they’d maintain it. From what he’s gathered, they’re probably in northeastern Europe somewhere but he can't think of one major crop they're known for. Potatoes maybe? Wheat? Agriculture was never his strong suit.

Eventually, they come to a metal door that Barney holds open for the both of them. The grass is, surprisingly, a bit warmer than the concrete inside. There’s hardly any clouds in the sky at all, but the sunshine is weak, not going too far to warm up the air around them. Still, he can’t see his breath yet and the fresh air is more than welcome.

A patch of land has been cleaned up and half-fenced in, maybe just a bit bigger than a basketball court. There's way more plants than he was expecting, especially when it feels like it could easily be the middle of autumn here, little wooden squares filled to the brim with dirt and raising all the plants a bit off the ground. He has no idea what most of them are but the space is overwhelmingly green and _lovely_ , even as it continues into what used to be a garage, repurposed into some kind of greenhouse. Under the mismatched lights he can see tomatoes, right next to a plant he isn't entirely sure is from Earth at all. 

_Plant_ might not be the right word for it, if he thinks about it.

Regardless, it looks like the garden is thriving, plants growing up trellises and posts made with old wood and spare PVC piping, looking well-kept and happy, for the most part. He wonders how many years it took to set this up, how they even _got_ these plants and what the series of blue plastic barrels could possibly be for. Gordon takes a double take, seeing that this garden doesn't just stop at the fence but instead continues out for meters, the bushes beyond more or less in little rows and the trees look like they were planted on purpose, relatively young and more or less evenly spaced out. On both there's still splotches of color here and there, red being the easiest to see, of fruit hanging from the branches.

Even on the chain-link fence, a vine weaves itself all along rusted metal and it takes him a moment to realize what it is, the broad leaves hiding dozens of pale orange squashes, most of them bigger than both his fists combined. He keeps staring in awe until a cold breeze takes him by surprise, sending a rustle through the nearby leaves and sending a chill up his spine. He rubs his hands together, breathes into his palms.

“Ah shit, I forgot. We really need to get you some actual clothes. Here,” Barney says from behind him, nearly making him jump. He unties the jacket from his waist and holds it out for Gordon to take. “I’ve got on long sleeves anyway, Doc.” He sure does, and they’re fairly fitted to his arms, and Gordon feels like he’s bluescreened for a few moments. He wants to protest but… he is but a simple man. He knows he doesn’t have enough brain power right now to argue anyway. “Thank you.” He signs instead, hoping his smile doesn’t make him look _too_ much like a dork. He’s scared he’s overstepped almost right after. It’s been at least fifteen years, probably more - are they friends still? Is he even single?

His thoughts are cut short when, halfway through putting the borrowed sweatshirt on, Alyx pipes up from where she had wandered across the garden. “Man, the cats here are _super_ ugly. Barney, you got to see him, you’ll love it!”

Unhurriedly, he makes his way over to look where she's half crouched near a half-crushed metal barrel, on it's side and missing a lid. “Now Alyx, you know there’s no such thing as a-- _Holy shit!_ ”

Gordon follows soon after and can’t help himself but to wheeze with laughter, completely caught off guard. He agrees that it would be a super ugly cat.

If it was a cat.

Near the back of the barrel, the ghostly white face of a possum stares out at the three of them, teeth half bared, but not making any sound.

Barney makes an indignant noise as he squats to get a better look. “How in the fuck did that even… Aren’t we in _Russia?!_ Alyx, that is _not_ a cat, that's a _possum_."

Gordon just laughs harder at Barney's bewildered look, leans down to make the _pspspspspsps_ noise while holding out his hand until Barney pushes at his shoulder and sends him off-balance.

" _Gordon!_ Don't encourage her!"

“You should keep it, Barns!” Alyx grins mischievously from where she's leaning back on her heels, several feet away. Gordon nods in agreement as he uses his hand to cover his smile.

“Wh- what if it has _rabies?_ ” Barney splutters.

“Marsupials are resistant,” Gordon gets his breath back long enough to _very_ helpfully add, "Their body temperatures are lower than other mammals." Barney groans at how funny he's finding this. God, he can't believe she called it an _ugly cat_. Alyx looks at him like he’s crazy, but he just shrugs.

“Yeah, yeah, but that doesn’t mean it _doesn’t_ have rabies.” He dismisses, throwing Gordon a stern look and trying not to look the least bit amused.

It starts to hiss like a snake and all three of them flinch. 

"Nope! We're staying _away_ from the wildlife!" Barney holds his arms out and starts the herd the two of them away from the barrel.

“What’s rabies?” Alyx asks when they're a good distance away.

“ _What’s ra-_ ” Barney repeats, baffled. “Oh, honey, I’m going to have a _talk_ with your father.”

Gordon starts laughing again and he gets a soft whack on the shoulder for it. While it took him off guard, he figures it makes a lot of sense. He has no idea how long Alyx lived in City 17, and from what he saw it didn’t seem to have too many animals. Plus, he figures headcrabs are a much more real threat now. He doesn’t envy her. 

“I think she’s had bigger problems to worry about.” He says with a chuckle.

“You know, I’d probably take a rabid possum over a headcrab, maybe we should trade out Lamarr." Barney muses, "Kliener might not even notice. Well… I don’t think it’s rabid. I’d sit out here and watch it to make sure but it’s cold as hell. Let’s get what we need and go inside. You two better _not_ try to pet it, and if one of you get bit while tryin' to, I'm not doing shit."

With that they get what they came out here for, which is mostly Barney getting what he came out here for while Gordon explains to Alyx what a possum is. After that, they both team up to try and convince Barney to keep it anyway as they make their way back to the kitchen with various fruits and vegetables.

If more of his days are like this one, Gordon thinks that living in this strange new world he's found himself in might not be too bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to quote myself directly from a conversation with a friend on discord;  
> "i have included the possum joke i was on the fence about.
> 
> and i did stare at the doc and go "oh my god, how am i going to write the common name of didelphis virginiana outside of character dialogue, when im not sure where the pov character is from, and if he'd leave the o out???"
> 
> then i went hm. i dont really care.
> 
> im putting possum because im southern and i say so."
> 
> she immediently called me a dork in all caps. love you ria!!!!! ♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> if you leave comments i will write the next chapter faster. trust me, it's true, it's science. i'd never lie to you about science. ty for reading!! if there's any glaring mistakes feel free to let me know


	3. Cooking Mystery Meat and Avoiding Answering Questions Your Niece Is Asking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin! Barney and Alyx make bastardized chicken kiev - the meat is not chicken. The meat is never explicitly stated to be anything but alien in nature so it's up to you to decide what kind of alien they're eating! Yay! If you need/want me to tag it as anything specific, I'd be happy to do so! I'm very new to ao3 - you can find me on tumblr @raccoonhandler. :)
> 
> This is probably much lower quality than the other two because apparently when I'm tired I just start typing out every stupid joke I think of.

As they’re taking the hallways back towards the kitchen, Alyx and Gordon still giggling about the possum, Barney starts to form his plan for dinner. Only four days out of the week were meals provided at the base by a few people dedicated to taking time out of their day to cook enough for everyone - the rest of the time, though, everyone is more or less expected to fend for themselves. This didn’t bother him too much at all, everyone still had access to the several kitchens and cupboards scattered haphazardly around the facility and Barney was more than capable of cooking for himself. However, over the years living in City 17, it became a bit of a tradition to try to eat together every night that they could.

Between Barney’s shifts, splitting the labs between City 17 itself and Black Mesa East and Alyx’s various escapades, it wasn’t a very regular thing, but it was still a thing. And after about twenty years of doing it, give or take, the nights spent together really started to add up, even if you don’t count the days when someone couldn’t make it. Generally, Barney was the one cooking. Kliener was… often forgetful in the kitchen, Eli had his hands full with being more or less a single parent and sorting out all the resistance stuff, and Alyx herself was like seven. He never really cooked that much before the apocalypse, but he does like to think he’s gotten pretty good at it - especially with how little he has to work with. Sure, he’s made his mistakes, but the numbers of fires he’s started is probably _nothing_ compared to Kliener and Alyx’s. Eli didn’t want her so much as looking at an oven until she was nearly fifteen, she was so much of a fire hazard. Barney did let her use (and then take apart) the toaster though, which didn’t go too bad. All in all, she made a pretty damn good heating pad with it. It was better at that than it ever was at toasting things anyway. 

The amount of things growing in the garden was surprising and he can see himself wandering out there more often. Barney only really grabbed some garlic and parsley, though, due to their unexpected visitor. Call him a coward, but he really didn’t want to get bit by a wild animal today - whether it’s from Earth or not. He remembers being surprised by the amount of little bags of flour tucked away here and there, along with a decent amount of salt and spare oil for cooking. While raiding the cabinets earlier he even saw several honest-to-god grocery story packages of things like rice, macaroni and what looked like breadcrumbs. There was even a still-sealed two liter of soda, though he isn’t really sure if it should be called “soda” anymore. It was a mystery to him why anyone picked that last one up, but to be fair it was more of a mystery how those things even _got_ there in the first place. How far did someone have to go to find those? How have they stayed apparently untouched for twenty some years? It was obviously nothing the Combine made, the packages were old but well preserved, still with printed on logos and labels and the little table of contents and everything. That, and the sheer amount of flour they have tucked away makes Barney wonder if they have people here at White Forest dedicated to scavenging or if they were just picked up by chance - certainly they haven’t been sitting here untouched for that long. Improbable foodstuffs or no, Barneys mind whirs as he thinks of what exactly he could put together. Garlic and parsley is a good start, but he’d have to see if the boxes are still any good.

“You’re lying!” Alyx groans next to him, pulling Barney from his thoughts. “There’s _no way_ I’m believing that.” She waves her hands around as she speaks, nearly hitting Barney’s elbow as she does. Slightly behind them, Gordon just chuckles at her indignation. A glance over his shoulder shows that he’s got that little smile of his, partially covered by his hand. It’s a look that Barney took way too long to realize meant that Gordon was probably just messing with him. Unaware, or maybe not caring, Alyx barrels on. “A rat can’t fly - not unless it had like, a little glider or something.” She seems to think about it for a long second before shaking her head. “And then that’s not true flight either! That’s something different.”

He has no idea what they’re talking about or how the conversation got here. Still, he’s glad they’re getting along. Well, he’s pretty sure this is what that is.

Fighting to keep a straight face, Gordon clears his throat. “No, it’s true. Black Mesa engineered them, they could fly just like birds.” He insists, soft and almost completely deadpan. Barney can’t help but throw a baffled look over his shoulder as he holds the kitchen doors open for the two of them.

“Yeah, well, did you know that the Combine engineered ants as big as bears? Bigger, even!” Alyx says without skipping a beat, though Barney’s pretty sure she doesn’t even know how a big a bear is. Dropping the goods from the garden on the counter, he goes to the cabinet where he saw the boxes to inspect them more thoroughly, but decides to pay a little more attention to what they’re saying.

Across the room, Gordon pushes his glasses up his nose and shakes his head, face the perfect picture of scientific interest and urging her to continue. Alyx takes a moment to look up at the ceiling, and Barney can practically hear her thinking up a convincing lie. “Well they, uh made them for war at first - obviously it didn’t work out too well. It’s not like you see giant ants everywhere y’know? So they decided to use them as livestock instead, but it’s a bit too cold up here for most of them.” She says with a smile, eyes bright, “I met a guy once that said he’s had some, said they tasted just like bullsquid, too.”

“Really? What do they feed them?” He can just barely hear Gordon ask over the cabinet closing, intrigued and just a bit skeptical. The question doesn’t throw Alyx off.

“Ahh, sugar. For the most part anyway.” She crosses her arms. “What did they make the flying rats for?”

“Dropping bombs.” He says without hesitation. Barney hardly catches himself in time to turn his laugh into a cough as he pulls the box of breadcrumbs from the shelf. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Alyx throw him and look, but he pretends to scrutinize the packaging instead. It’s all in Cyrillic, but he can still read the expiration date. He kind of wishes he couldn’t. Slipping a finger under the cardboard tab and ripping the box open, he finds that the plastic bag inside still intact and looking pretty decent. Even the contents inside just look like regular panko breadcrumbs. He starts to wonder what the hell kind of preservatives they were putting into these things to make them last so long, but there isn’t any little insects or mold that he can see inside so he decides to leave the gift horse alone. Besides, with everything he’s eaten in his lifetime, he figures that breadcrumbs and the preservatives therein isn’t going to be the thing that gets him. After a few moments of squinting at the bag he opens it to find it smells… Of just about nothing. Maybe kind of like dust. Or stale air.

“What? How would the rats know when to drop the bombs?” He hears Alyx ask, more amused than annoyed.

Gordon seems to consider this for a moment. “They didn’t.” Is all he says.

“Hey,” Barney starts, and both of their heads snap up to look at him. “Would one of y’all come smell this?”

He can’t help laugh at how fast Gordon wrinkles his nose at the thought. “No, c’mon, I’m serious.” He holds the box out to the two of them and his frown only deepens.

“I can’t smell.” Alyx is quick to chirp as she takes Gordon by the forearm to lead him closer. Barney doesn’t think that’s entirely accurate - just _mostly_ accurate. If he remembers correctly, it has something to do with the same fire that got her banned from looking at ovens. Gordon, however, doesn’t seem to believe her at all.

Barney rolls his eyes at their hesitance. “It’s just breadcrumbs.” He shakes the box at them as if that proves anything. Such lack of faith.

Gordon raises an eyebrow. “Then why do you need me to smell them?”

“I wanted a second opinion!” He says defensively as Alyx comes closer.

“What are you using breadcrumbs for?” She asks after deftly stealing the box from him. “Oh man, this is _old_!” With a laugh, she shakes it a little bit and peers down into the box.

“You’re not helping.”

She gives Barney a shrug. “It looks fine though, did you taste it?”

“Not yet, but it’s not like it smells bad or weird or anything.”

“Then what does it smell like?” Gordon asks as he looks skeptically over Alyx’s shoulder.

“I dunno, Gord!” He laughs, “Maybe like, stale air I guess? I think they’re probably still okay to eat, the package was intact and everything.” He still doesn’t look convinced. “I’m not tryin’ to poison you, don’t look at me like that.”

Gently, like it’s a busted hand grenade and not a box of breadcrumbs, he takes the breadcrumbs from Alyx. He wafts it towards him like you’re taught to do in Chemistry in highschool.

He gives a half shrug. “Smells like yeast.”

“Thanks, doctor. Your insight is as invaluable as ever.”

Gordon cracks a smile and Barney tries not to get stuck in the normalcy of the moment. Tries not to think about how many times he must’ve teased him in the exact way before, how many times he’s seen Gordon smile like that. It’s their old kind of normal.

But with Alyx here too, saying something to Gordon about an expiration date, it’s Barney’s _now_ kind of normal too. 

Before he can dwell on that thought for too long, the door to the kitchens opens, and it doesn’t take Barney even a second to realize who it is.

“Kliener!” He beams, “Would you mind smelling this for us?”

Just as he knew he would, Kliener comes over without a trace of dubiousness.

“See?” Barney says, maybe just a bit smug as Gordon passes the box to him. “Unlike you two, Kliener trusts me.” He jokes, light-hearted.

“It smells fine. What is this?” Kliener questions, flipping the box around to look at what’s printed on the front.

“I trust you with my life.” Gordon says, like Barney wasn’t joking. He’d say the same thing to Gordon, probably has, but hearing him say it makes his throat constrict like - “But I saw what the back of your fridge looked like in Black Mesa.”

Barney groans.

Beside him, Alyx looks positively _delighted_. 

“I’m a changed man, I swear!” Barney tries to defend himself, sending a sour look Alyx’s way when she starts to laugh. “The only reason yours looked any better is because you hardly ever kept anything in it! Ugh, I was always so scared that one day you’d waste away over a stack of papers because you forgot to feed yourself.”

“Oh, I had that same problem when I was his age!” Kliener chimes, sticking a hand into the box. “Eventually I just set timers to remind myself… now I just eat whenever Izzy does, though.” He eats some of the bread crumbs like it’s nothing and the three others stare in tense silence as they wait for his reaction.

“Why are you three looking at me like that? Did I say something off?”

“Uh, no, Kliener… How does it taste?” Alyx asks, concern clear on her face. Mold, of all things, had always been one of her biggest fears ever since she knew what it was. Barney can’t really blame her, it makes more sense than his nearly baseless fear of finding a scorpion in his shoes. In New Mexico? Made more sense. In Russia? Not so much. But he still always checks.

“Hm, maybe a little stale, but not bad at all.” He says, going back for seconds.

“Huh.” That’s not really what he expected from some breadcrumbs at least 15 years out of date. Not expected, but something he can definitely work with. Barney turns on his heel to go see what they have in the cupboard, trying to think back on what recipes he knows.

The door creaks when it’s opened, and the inside is cold enough to make Barney remember that Gordon still has his jacket. He stands there and considers the lines of shelves for a long, long moment. Most things are neatly labeled, though not all of it is in a language Barney can read. It’s foodstuffs of all kinds, some in plastic containers big and small, some not in containers at all - the giant tub labeled “ _Venison?_ ” in particular gives him pause. He decides not to look, maybe some other time.

There is a surprising amount of meat, he realizes, which is certainly why they keep it so cold in here. Wait - is that actually..? Excited, he gets closer, picking up the clear plastic bag in his hands. 

Oh. No.

Well.

It’s surely not what he thought it was. It’s probably close enough to a bird for it to work right? Barney hums into the cool air, decides he might as well give it a try.

Let’s see… garlic, parsley, breadcrumbs and flour, somewhere… Yeah, that could work.

It takes a few more minutes of shuffling around hastily-labeled containers for him to find the rest of what he needs, but he does eventually manage (but not without a few substitutions here and there), setting aside a bit of space on the counter to lay out all the ingredients. Kliener, Alyx and Gordon are still where he left them, though, for whatever reason, Gordon is now hugging Kliener hard enough for his shoes to leave the floor as Alyx coos in the background. While scouring the cabinets for proper-sized bowls, Gordon breaks off from where the other three are chatting but stops to stand several feet back from the plastic bag, looking mildly horrified.

“What _is_ that?” He manages after a few seconds of confused arm motions towards what can only be barely recognized as “meat.” Barney can’t exactly blame him for the look on his face, but can’t quite help laughing at him either. It wasn’t like he was going to be feeding him Snark - though, if Gordon really was just _gone_ for twenty years it would make sense that he hasn’t really seen what passes as food these days.

Barney decides to let him keep his ignorance for a little bit longer.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, hun.”

Gordon’s ears turn a lovely shade of pink as somewhere across the room Alyx snorts a laugh.

“Oh! That reminds me!” Kliener starts with a snap of his fingers, making Gordon whirl around to face him. “I was meaning to take a look at your suit when you got up! If you want I can show you around the new lab as well. I think with some effort it could be even better than the one we had in City 17.” Despite his tired eyes, Gordon suddenly looks ecstatic. Barney remembers that back in the old days, the only one who could stand to hear Kliener for seemingly ever was Gordon - it didn’t even matter what the subject was. “Have you already been shown around the base? It can be a bit like a labyrinth if you don’t know what you’re doing, you know.”

Gordon starts to cross the distance but stops abruptly, giving the other two a worried look as he hovers, halfway between the door and the countertop. Barney can’t help but smile a bit.

“It’ll just be an hour and a half at most.” He assures, more to Gordon than to Kliener. “Me n’ Alyx have it handled. Now shoo, I know you’ve been wanting to catch up.” He adds, when he still looks hesitant.

Freeman doesn’t leave without giving them a wave and a sheepish smile, but between the way his eyes light up and how Barney can hear Kliener talking about the HEV suit before the door has even closed, he knows that Gordon will be more than fine.

“So!” Alyx claps her hands together, a sunny smile on her face. “What’re we cooking?”

Barney takes a moment to double check that they’ll have everything they’ll need. It’s been too many times now that he got halfway through cooking something only to realize he was missing one of the basics.

“Chicken Kiev. But without the chicken. So kind of, but also not at all.” He waves a hand in the air in front of him, dismissive. “I’m sure it’ll work still. Probably.”

“Great! I’m sure there’s no way this could go wrong!” She says cheerfully.

“Hey! I think I got this.” Barney chuckles as he washes his hands in the sink. “It’s been a while since I made any big mistakes.”

Alyx hums as she eyes the assortment of things he’s laid out. “That’s what has me worried, I think you’re running on borrowed time.”

“You’re bein’ pretty mean to the man that cooked most of your meals for, oh, I dunno, nearly half your life?”

“And you did a great job! For the most part.” She scratches at her neck as she gives him a narrowed-eyed look. “It’s just that when you get… _ideas_ that problems start to occur.”

“It’ll be fine!” He scoffs, flicking some soapy water in her direction. “It’s nothin’ too fancy or complicated - it’s chicken but you put the butter and the seasoning on the _inside_ , basically. Except for we don’t have chicken. So, we’re using the next best thing.”

“Right…” Alyx trails as she slips past him to use the sink. “And that doesn’t make it harder to cook, or anything?”

Barney makes a noncommittal hand wave as he starts to lay out the meat on the cutting board. Most of them are just about the right size to be small chicken breasts, more or less. It’ll be _fine_. 

And if it isn’t? He can always check back to see if that rice is any good. Since it _isn’t_ chicken, he figures that the chance for salmonella poisoning has also plummeted way down - but to be fair, he never had a problem with under-cooking things. Just over cooking them, on occasion.

By the time Barney’s done scrutinizing the knives in the knife block, Alyx is already standing over the cutting board, looking eager despite her teasing earlier. She’s always been eager in most everything she does, helping cook not excluded (most of the time). “Alright,” He takes one knife and sets the other one down as gathers his thoughts for a moment, running back through the steps in his head again. “We’re going to cut down through the middle, like this right? But stop before you cut all the way through - we just want it to open up kinda like a book.”

Alyx nods as she watches, attention rapt, like he was making a pipe bomb instead of dinner.

“You can do this to all of them and do your best to get them even, or…” He hands the other knife to her, handle first. “You can chop up the parsley and garlic.”

“I’ll take the parsley!” She declares, looking just a little relieved as she steps behind him to grab the herbs. Her knife hovers just a few inches above the board. “How do you need them?”

“Uh, just about as small as you can get for the garlic - the parsley doesn’t matter too much.”

With the work divided, it’s over quickly, and even though Alyx hasn’t accidentally nicked herself with a kitchen knife in years it doesn’t stop Barney from worrying about it a bit. Unlike the “chicken” and the eggs they’re using, the butter, he is excited to see is _real_ and from _real Earth creatures_. Who would’ve guessed that whatever group of goat herders that had been set up just a stone's throw away from the White Forest base would kindly trade some of their extra supplies for some high caliber ammunition? Magnusson, apparently, as Barney found out this morning.

How the hell they’re keeping goats out here, Barney has no clue. He might’ve even considered joining them, but his knees aren’t really what they used to be. That, and he distinctly remembers that goats stink just as about as much as their attitude. He always got along better with the cows, anyway. Regardless, the butter that doesn’t come from aliens is a nice change of pace, and so was coming across the little tin just labeled “ _перец_ ” - which he is almost certain is lemon pepper. A little bit of the garlic, parsley, pepper and a decent amount of butter is put into the middle of their substitute chicken breasts and the edges are (gently) pressed closed.

Barney grabs a large skillet and places it over medium heat, making sure to be careful when adding the oil, even if it isn’t hot yet. He starts to prepare for the next steps, setting out the shallow bowls from earlier in a little row. There’s three of them, all charmingly mismatched. He cleans up the things they won’t be needing anymore as he goes, and maybe sensing the lull, Alyx comes over to peer over his shoulder.

“Where did you even learn how to make this?” She questions as he checks over his things once again - eggs, flour, salt and Kliener-approved breadcrumbs.

“Growing up we never watched much tv, but my mama used to like to leave the Food Network Channel on in the background sometimes. I Guess an episode or two rubbed off - though, I really don’t think this is what Mrs. Julia Child had in mind.”

She hums in response as he goes over to check the oil again, walking back over next to the sink.

“Funny enough, I’m pretty sure the recipe is originally Russian - though there’s a real good chance I’m making a bastardized version of it.”

Alyx doesn’t respond right away - he assumes because she has no earthly idea who Julia Child is. Barney gets caught up in his thoughts - the oil needs to boil, right? Or can it just get hot? No, that’s stupid, it needs to boil, it even rhymes -

“So…” Alyx pipes up, and he glances to see her pulling herself up to sit on the far counter. He takes a moment to be relieved that she’s chosen a place far from anything that will be boiling in the future. “You and Gordon.”

Barney throws a half-suspicious sideways look at her as he reaches for the eggs, waiting for her to continue. He has to hit the eggs a lot harder on the flat of the counter than he would for actual chicken eggs. At least the yolks are the same color, though, give or take a bit. When it’s clear she’s not going to continue without prompting, he glances around for the next thing he needs to put in his row of bowls.

“Pass me that flour, would ya?” He asks as he washes his hands off and he swears he had just placed it by the eggs, but he can see it plain as day on the counter next to where Alyx is perched. Huh.

She just frowns at him and doesn’t make the slightest move to grab it. Barney sighs as he gets a feeling that he knows _exactly_ where this is going.

“What do you mean, ‘me and Gordon?’”

Alyx is very nearly pouting now. “You _know_ what I mean.” She insists.

“I really don’t.” He says in a tone that he hopes will make her drop whatever conversation she was hoping to have with him all together, crossing his arms over his chest. Her and Gordon were always too smart for their own good sometimes. Unlike Gordon (bless his heart), Alyx actually has the social awareness to figure out Barney’s not-so-secret crush faster than even Eli did, back in the day. He figures he’s either twenty years out of practice for pretending he’s not a lovesick fool or that Alyx just _knows_ him well enough to tell. Barney’s not really sure which he thinks is worse.

She hops off the counter with a groan, and for a second as she grabs the bag of flour he thinks that she _will_ just let the conversation go - but instead she walks over to one of the metal shelves lining the wall, standing on her tip-toes to put it on a shelf high enough that they _both_ know he can’t reach it without embarrassing himself. He should’ve seen this coming. When she turns around she looks distinctly smug, mouth pulled up at the corners.

He really should’ve seen this coming.

Alyx crosses her arms, mirroring him, though Barney isn’t sure if it’s intentional or not. “I didn’t know you two were together.” She says lightly, with an air of false innocence.

He can nearly feel his face heating up and he prays it doesn’t show. “Now I _really_ don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Barns.” She warns, frowning once again.

“We’re not together Alyx.”

“Now does that mean you _were_ together? Past tense?”

“No.” He says curtly, turning back to the bowls and starting to whisk the eggs with a little more force than is probably necessary. There was some more flour stashed in one of the cabinets, Barney knows, but he also knows that she won’t let him avoid her inquisition for long if she has the choice. If Alyx Vance is anything, she’s persistent.

“Dad sure seemed to think so.”

Barney distracts himself but pouring the panko breadcrumbs out into a different bowl. “Well, Eli thinks a lot of things.”

“Barney.” She huffs, crossing the kitchen to look him in the eye. He tries his damndest to avoid her gaze. “I’m not asking to try to make you uncomfortable.”

“Could’a had me fooled.” He grumbles under his breath. “Look,” Barney starts, giving up all illusion of cooking and turning to look at her, “If you want to try and shoot your shot with him, I won’t get in your way - in fact, I was never in it to begin with, really.” She splutters but he barrels on “I think you two could make a cute couple, I really do. I know you think highly of him.”

“No! I mean - that’s not -” She groans into her hands, and Barney takes a bit of satisfaction in the fact that his assumptions were _right._ “Isn’t he like twice my age?!”

“Apparently not.” He sounds a bit sour, even to himself, which doesn’t help his case.

“ _What?_ ”

“He’s still twenty-seven. The way he said it, it sounded like for the twenty years he was MIA he wasn’t anywhere at all. He sure looks like it, too.”

“That doesn’t -” She pauses and shakes her head, reorganizing her thoughts. Barney pours the salt into the last bowl, scowling at space on the counter where the flour _just was_ not five minutes ago. Alyx takes her time before she continues. “I meant… I didn’t realize you felt that way about him.” The face she’s making has him regretting making this conversation so hard on her, but not by much.

“Just…” She wrings her hands and then steps closer until she’s only a few feet away. “It’s obvious that you make each other really happy, and I _know_ how much you missed him, even if you don’t want to admit it. You should tell him - or, or, just kiss him already or something.” She puts her hands on his shoulders and her eyes are so damn wide and _soft-hearted_ that Barney feels his anger deflate a little. Alyx is just about the last person he wants to start fighting with, after everything.

“Alyx, I don’t think it’s that simple. I-I’m not even sure he’s _into_ men to begin with.”

“He slept on you on the train. I think you’re the one who's making it not simple.” She says flatly.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” He squawks, “The guy had a long day! _You_ used to nap on me all the time.”

She points a finger at him. “You know that’s different!”

“How is that any different? Just a completely platonic nap between two people who _might_ love each other, but _not in that way._ ”

“Barns!” She exclaims with a disbelieving little laugh. “You’re basically my _uncle_. It’s totally different, you helped raise me!”

“So? How do I know he doesn’t think of me like a brother? It’s not that different Alyx, the guy’s just been through hell and he needed a nap.”

Alyx groans towards the ceiling and paces off across the room as the oil starts to hiss in the skillet. Barney glares at the bubbles, but it isn’t long before Alyx comes back, putting the bag of flour on the counter by his elbow like a peace offering.

They look at each other for a few moments. Barney just feels tired. He pours the flour into the bowl with the salt, then mixes it as evenly as he can.

“C’mon…” Alyx starts, incredibly soft. “You two keep looking at each other all sad and I can’t stand it.” He doesn’t need to look at her to know what she’s pouting again.

“I’m tellin’ ya, Alyx, he doesn’t feel that way about me. He’s always just kinda looked like that - sad and a bit confused is like, his default most of the time.” That, and looking like he was thinking very hard about deep and science-y things, but Barney hasn’t seen _that_ face much at all. He always thought that face and his lost puppy face were equally cute.

“Well, I think you’re wrong.” She replies, like it’s that simple. “You should at _least_ try. What’s the worst that can happen?”

Barney picks up the first of their substitute-chicken breasts to dunk it into the bowl with the mixture of flour and salt. “Oh, I dunno, everything gets weird between us and he never wants to talk again?” He supplies, sarcasm practically dripping off the words.

Alyx groans as he puts the now-floured meat into the bowl with the egg yolks. “That’s literally never going to happen!” As she continues, he pays careful attention to make sure the egg covers the whole surface, including the cut edge. “Even if he doesn’t feel the same way - _which he does_ \- you guys are both big boys, you can work it out.”

He gives a noncommittal grumble in response as he drops the meat into the last bowl, filled with breadcrumbs. Alyx might have a point, but he just got Gordon back - there’s no way in hell he’s going to do anything that could drive him away any time soon. Plus, the guy has a lot on his plate, the _last_ thing Barney wants to do is add to it. 

Well, figuratively - he would very much like to add to Gordon’s plate literally, which is kind of what he’s doing now. Gordon was always a bit lanky, but recently his face has gotten a bit gaunt in a way that makes Barney worry to no end.

Alyx lets out a long breath, and puts the next slice into the flour as Barney puts his into the skillet. As it hisses and spits she says, “Fine. I’ll let it go… for now. But I do think you should just like, talk to him y’know? For me?”

They fall almost companionably silent, Alyx battering the food and passing it to Barney to put into the pan. The noise of it frying manages to be soothing and while it doesn’t quite smell like chicken, it does smell pretty good, especially with the garlic.

“Y’know,” Alyx begins, only speaking once the skillet is full. Barney hums in response as he watches the meat cook - it’s important to only flip them once, or else everything on the inside will probably fall out. “I probably should’ve put it together earlier, with all those stories you told about him.”

He rolls his eyes, but bumps his shoulder with hers just to hear her laugh.

“You were _so right_ about the vent stuff though. It was like he was born in one.”

“Yeah?” Barney can’t help but chuckle. “Did he really find a vent?” Knowing where the vents are in a facility you’ve worked in for a while and finding random vents out in post-apocalyptic Eastern Europe is a different matter entirely.

“Mmhm, several -” He flips one of the pieces over with a spatula as she continues. “I think it cheered him up to be honest.” Alyx grins and it’s infectious.

“I swear his dad had to be like an HVAC repair guy or something, AC practically runs in his veins. You really should’ve seen him in Black Mesa - he was like a little, I dunno, a ferret or something.” He shrugs and flips over the next piece. “I still don’t know how he even did it sometimes, hell, I bet he could’ve turned around in one of those things if he tried hard enough.”

“A what-vac?”

“Ugh,” Barney groans. “You make me feel so old sometimes.”

Alyx laughs, grabbing a plate for him to drop the fully cooked pieces onto.

“Wait. I think I’m thinkin’ about hamsters.” Those are the ones that could turn around in tubes right? Maybe ferrets could do that too?

“Yeah, I still don’t know what that is.”

“They’re like rats but they make little tunnels. No tails either.” He explains as he takes a new piece from Alyx to put it into the oil. “They’re pretty cute.” She gives him a smug look but decides not to comment.

“So… if this isn’t chicken... what are we going to call it?” A hand is waved in the direction of the cooked pieces. They don’t look too bad at all - mostly intact and a nice golden brown color. Barney will wait to congratulate himself until _after_ they’ve tasted it though. “‘Mystery Meat Kiev?’” She ventures.

“Oh god, that makes it sound worse than it is.” 

“Awh, who doesn’t like mystery meat?”

While the rest finish cooking, they bounce potential names at each other.

_(“Well, what about Weird Kiev?”_

_“I really don’t think that’s better either. What about something alliterative? Maybe like, uh, ‘cryptic?’”_

_“Hmm, I kinda like ‘unknowable.’ That’s pretty much alliterative, right?”_

_“How about… ‘stuffed stuff?’”_

_“That’s descriptive but just vague enough to be unsettling. I think it’s perfect!”)_

And once the very important question of what to call it is settled, Alyx goes off to collect their little gaggle of doctors while Barney finishes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> could you tell that this chapter was originally supposed to be gordon pov? to quote the cult classic 2007 film Ratatouille: "c'est la vie."
> 
> I didn't reread this one because I just wanted to get it posted - its also shorted than the other two chapters but i guess that's Just How It is. I went "ooo, im going to give myself a little break from writing! :3" and then suddenly it was like. a whole month later. I'll probably proof read it eventually, or maybe get someone else to if the thought of doing that makes me feel violent later. I hope you enjoy!! tysm for reading!!
> 
> as always, the comments fuel me, each one makes me grow more muscular and handsome. soon i will be unstoppable. its nearly 3 am and i'm not really sure what i'm saying anymore.
> 
> EDIT: my friend says i have to leave everything exactly as i submitted it but i have skimmed over it i am so sorry for what ive done. this is such a mess. i dont remember writing any of this but ive been told i call gordon a ferret.

**Author's Note:**

> i have no idea what i'm doing i'm just tired of looking at this hot garbage. i watched a play through of half life 2 and i had Feelings. those feelings boil down to: oh my god they all need a nap. let me know if i need to tag anything else or if i messed something up real bad! ty for reading


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